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#he got burns
endusviolence · 1 month
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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?
I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?
In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".
Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.
This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.
Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.
The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.
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[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]
There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.
This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.
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[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]
As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.
But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?
Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.
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minnow-doodle-doo · 9 months
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Then Jason never kills again.
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FNAF movie Mike meets Jeremy Fitzgerald
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paperultra · 8 months
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back of house.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing
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If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.
“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”
Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.
“I’m sorry, Sanji.”
“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”
“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”
“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”
“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”
“I –”
“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”
Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”
Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”
“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”
“I’m her mentor.”
“And I’m the damn boss.”
The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.
Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.
“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”
Zeff grunts with satisfaction.
The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.
“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”
Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.
You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.
“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.
You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.
His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”
“It did.”
It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.
Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.
(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)
“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.
His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”
“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”
You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”
Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.
How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.
But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.
“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”
As always, your heart skips a beat.
“Okay.”
Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.
“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”
You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”
Your pulse pounds in your ears.
Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.
“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.
He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.
Indeed, this is home.
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moonsun2010 · 2 years
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pain
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months
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I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR SQQ HE LOOKS SO FUCKINH DONE WITH LIFE
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The recipe for SQQ is: calm on the outside, screaming on the inside.
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mobius-m-mobius · 6 months
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#just a couple of equally fierce battles 😅
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xavier616 · 2 months
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"It has come to my attention that Sergeant Zale lost three-hundred dollars last night."
The Novocaine Mutiny || Season Four || Episode Twenty
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sporeclan · 2 months
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< Previous | First | Next >
Leaf-bare again and we're already off to a bad start :')
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nethnad · 5 months
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thinking about time lords and their fucked up little society again and i just realized how devastating the revelation of the drums in the end of time is in relation to the master's character.
because of all the renegade time lords in the universe, i think it's the master who most exemplifies the philosophical outlook that the time lords have towards the rest of the universe. they're stuffy observers, administrators, yes - but this position is one they've decided for themselves because of this concept of supremacy over other life forms. imposed and upheld this idea that other species that lack a time sense are less-than, primitive. and the master buys into this hard.
and i mean... compared to the doctor, the master is good at being a time lord. he buys into these supremacist concepts, this idea that every other species (and especially humans) is practically a meaningless ant in the grand scheme of the universe. takes it to the extreme, yes, but its the same underlying principle. he's a good student (despite whatever chibnall might think) - that one time lord from terror of the autons (identity forever a mystery) (its brax) even says "he did receive a higher degree of cosmic science than you." the master could play their game if he wanted to. he's remarkably comfortable with being on gallifrey/the idea of gallifrey(in eot/tlotl) than the doctor ever is. where the doctor avoids the subject of the lord presidency like the plague, the master is like "well if you kill the president you ARE the president! and then you have all of gallifrey!" and when the doctor destroys gallifrey (nominally), the master tries to rebuild it in the sound of drums/last of the time lords. tries to emulate their society. honor them in his little fucked up way. he brings them back from the time war!
and what does he get for it? how did the time lords treat him in response?
they decide to implant the sound of drums in his head, stretching back until he's a child. puts this insufferable noise, this splitting headache, in his head for his entire life. all so that they may live while he dies. because he is diseased, because of them. he has swallowed the pill, bought their propaganda, he has followed the rules, he tried to rebuild them he tried. and in response he is chewed up and spit out like trash so that rassilon's god complex can survive while the universe crumbles.
how crushing must that be to someone? to have your whole worldview - that you are better, you are chosen, you are special - come crumbling down in a few short moments? to see the revered founder-god of the civilization you have so desperately tried to revive look at you and say "you are diseased," even though he was the one to poison you in the first place?
and as his heart is torn to pieces... when rassilon says "no more," and charges his gauntlet, the master - who has spent countless lives fighting death with his bare hands - does not move.
part of me thinks he does not want to.
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asukachii · 1 year
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"Maybe from today onwards, I'll be better".
(I don’t like putting watermarks so, PLEASE, if you want to post these gifs somewhere GIVE CREDITS! Also, don’t use them in edits/videos. Thanks~)
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sugar-tooth · 11 months
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flustered JFK >>>>
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risestarkiss · 4 months
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Rise Ramblings #359
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*dials* Hello? Police? Yes, I'd like to report a complete savage on the loose.
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sorio99 · 6 months
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Knowing “Nerdy Prudes Must Die” was the first idea the Lang brothers had for Hatchetfield makes the whole series so much funnier.
Like, did they know in “The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals” that the weirdo who demanded a hot chocolate would be the leading man of the high school horror show?
Did they know the prude they mentioned a few times would be a homophobic murderer who defiled a corpse, fucked a ghost, and became a vessel for dark lords?
Was the homeless man joke in BEFORE the recast because they were still brothers, or not?
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zwierzodudle · 8 months
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every time i get prae in the roulette i put off starting gaius' questline for another month (i will never start it)
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feyreswaterybowels · 4 days
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⭒The Silent One⭒
#3 Azriel x Fem!OC
⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.
Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵
Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.
Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.
He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.
The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.
The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.
That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.
“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.
Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.
“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”
Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.
“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”
“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.
“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”
“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.
“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.
“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.
“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”
“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”
“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”
“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.
“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.
“She’s coming.”
Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.
“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.
“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”
“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.
“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”
Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.
“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.
“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.
They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.
“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.
Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.
“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”
Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.
“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.
“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.
“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”
The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.
“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.
“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.
A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.
“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.
“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”
“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”
“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.
“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.
“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.
“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.
“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.
Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.
“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.
He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.
The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?
He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.
“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.
“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”
“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.
“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”
“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.
“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.
“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.
“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.
“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.
“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.
“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.
“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.
“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.
“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.
“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.
“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”
She shrugs, taking the book back.
“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.
“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.
“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”
“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.
“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.
“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.
“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”
Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”
Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.
“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.
“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.
“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”
I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.
“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.
“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.
“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.
“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”
He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.
“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.
“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.
“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”
“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.
Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.
Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.
She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.
Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.
The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.
They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.
Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.
Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.
“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.
“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.
“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.
“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.
“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.
Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.
When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.
And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.
A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.
And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.
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